Broken
by Parachutingkitten
Summary: Huey and Webby trapped on some random adventure talking about self worth. Platonic or romantic? You choose. I just love these two and their dynamic and chemistry.


"Give it up Webby," Huey sighed. "We've tried everything. We're stuck."

Despite his insistence, I through myself at the wall again, hoping to maybe make a dent. "It's about persistence! We've got to keep trying, or we'll never get out!"

"Webby-"

"You should know better than I do, there's always a way out of any situation you're in." I stopped for a second to catch my breath. It didn't really look like I had done anything, but that didn't matter. Maybe I was making progress and… I just couldn't see it. "Huey, I just think you're not thinking positively enough! Maybe we are trapped underwater in a steel prison slowly running out of oxygen with no promise of help on the way but… we always get out of situations like this, right? You'll think of something, you always do."

I charged again at the wall, but with no new results.

"Right, Huey?" I smiled through my shortening breath. "Huey?" I turned around to look at him.

He sat against the wall, eyes blank, staring up at the ceiling. A pang of sadness shot through my heart. Huey rarely looked this lifeless. Especially while on adventures.

I slowly walked over to him, sitting down on my knees. "Hey, it's okay. I'm sure your brothers are coming for us. We can still fix this."

"What about me? Can you fix me?" His eyes stayed on the ceiling, empty and sad. It scared me in a way I had never felt before.

"What do you mean by that?" I laughed nervously. "I don't see anything wrong with you."

He scrunched his knees up, wrapping his arms around them and sinking his eyes on them.

"Are you… okay?"

He stayed silent for a moment more. "I always do this." His voice was tight and soft, almost like it hurt him to talk. "I always get myself into situations like this, and I stress out, and I can't… I can't handle it. I just shut down. It's like I'm broken or something-"

"You're not broken." I stopped him. "Everyone gets nervous sometimes."

"Not you!" He looked over at me, his eyes noticeably red. "You're always so sure that everything is going to turn out okay, and you're always thinking of new ways to solve problems-"

"Well, so do you."

"No. I don't. I just steal other people's solutions."

"Huey, you're the smartest person I know." I was so confused. He seemed so dejected and hopeless. It was so out of character for him.

"What, because I cram a bunch of facts into my head? I never come up with any ideas on my own, it's all just other people's ideas I've read."

"You don't know that-"

"Yes I do! Because when I'm put on the spot, I freeze up. I'm not good at doing anything, I just soak up other people's ideas. I'm a sponge. That's all."

I laid down on the floor. The chill of the metal felt good against my back.

"Well… every kitchen needs a sponge, right?"

"…What?"

"Well, say I'm… like soap. I'm good at coming up with wacky ideas to solve problems or… I guess clean the dishes, but without a sponge the soap just kinda sits around aimlessly doing nothing. The sponge scrubs all the dishes up and makes all the pretty bubbles."

"…That metaphor is extremely flawed. If the soap is the substance of the idea itself it would make more sense for you to be something like the soap bottle-"

"See what I mean!" I sat up to look at him again. "You just fixed my metaphor!"

He rolled his eyes. "Sure."

Correcting someone's English usually cheered Huey up. This was going to be more difficult than I thought. "…Do you not like my metaphor? I can try and come up with a different one if you want-"

"No, it's not that. You're metaphor's great. You're always great."

I slid in front of him, trying to get his eye contact again. "What's wrong, Huey? I've never seen you like this before. It's like you don't care about anything. You always care."

"I told you. I think I'm just broken. Life finally beat me, I gave up, and now I'm broken."

I wanted to stop him again, but instead I stopped myself, thinking of what else I could say to him to get him to explain. "Well… what can I do to fix you?"

His head shot up to look at me. A mix of surprised emotions played across his face.

"No… I… I don't want to be fixed. I don't deserve it." he stood up quickly moving away. "Especially not from you."

"Hey, hold on a second!" I stood and followed him, grabbing his wrist to stop him. "We're in a tiny metal box! Where are you even going?"

"Look," He turned around brushing my hand off of him. "I screw up. Constantly. All the time. And I feel like I'm not contributing anything anymore! And I drag the team down, and lately, that means I'm dragging you down. And that sucks! Because you're amazing, and smart, and clever, and seriously talented, and then I come in, and screw everything up by getting us trapped hundreds of feet underwater-!"

"Huey, we all screw up!" I chuckled. "All the time! I screw up! Scrooge screws up! Heck, Dewey and Louie are like, the masters of screwing up! You probably screw up the least out of everyone on the team!"

"Then why am I the only one it breaks?" he sunk down to the floor again.

I sat on the floor next to him. These mistakes mattered so much to him, didn't they? Why does he care so much? Everyone makes mistakes, it's not like he's perfect- Perfect. "Because you're a perfectionist. Mistakes damage you, because you're a perfectionist." his head raised a little bit as I spoke. "You're already so perfect that any imperfection hurts you. And that… must suck. But it doesn't mean you're broken. It just means you're a little scratched up."

I looked over at him, his eyes meeting mine again.

"so… If I were to continue this metaphor… I just need to be a shined up a little?"

I smiled, grabbing his hand. I knew a metaphor would help. "I'll help shine you, if you help shine me, okay?"

Huey smiled, looking at me with a bit of a chuckle. "…I think I can manage that."


End file.
